


inside this place is warm (outside it starts to pour)

by existentialflu (sotakeabitofcalpol)



Category: NCIS
Genre: (s), Bisexual Character, Coming Out, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Team as Family, also Ned shows up at one point if that sweetens the deal, listen I just think all the science characters on NCIS should be bi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-05
Updated: 2020-12-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:27:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,525
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27899074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sotakeabitofcalpol/pseuds/existentialflu
Summary: Tim has never really paid that much attention to the lab's ceiling.It's surprisingly intact, free of scorch marks and any other damage Abby could potentially inflict. Apart from the thumbtacks she's driven into the ceiling.This is stupid. He's projecting. Onto cafpow cups.or Tim’s thoughts on various coffee shops, semi-awkward silences and finding a family amongst people like you
Relationships: Timothy McGee & Abby Scuito & Jimmy Palmer
Comments: 2
Kudos: 14





	inside this place is warm (outside it starts to pour)

**Author's Note:**

> all the bis, NCIS science guys (sorry I made myself laugh)
> 
> minor warnings for vague case references, alcohol, a referenced bar fight, non-graphic stitching of a head wound and my interpretation of McGee’s childhood.

Tim has never really paid that much attention to the lab's ceiling.

It's surprisingly intact, free of scorch marks and any other damage Abby could potentially inflict. Apart from the thumbtacks she's driven into the ceiling.

This is stupid. He's projecting. Onto _cafpow cups._

Look, McGee is bi, alright. Not the most fun journey to coming to terms with that, and not something he lets people know about. Not that he lets people know very much, as Tony has pointed out many times. A previous boyfriend, a psychology student at John Hopkins, had pointed out that that part of his personality could have stemmed from the don't ask, don't tell attitude he'd learnt from his father, or vice versa. That's besides the point.

The actual point is that he isn't the type of person to go to many places where he might happen upon other people like him. He's been sorta busy since he moved to Washington. So when he sees Abby's new art installation, he does a little bit of a double take.

It's a set of three cafpow cups, strung from the ceiling, from various promotional limited editions that have cropped up over the years. Pink, purple, blue; the right colours, the right order. He feels himself just...stare at them for a bit. Then he jumps about a foot in the air as someone lays an arm on his shoulder.

"McGee?"

"Geez, Abby, how'd you do that?"

"I've been trying to work out how Gibbs does it. At the minute I'm trying thinking like him."

"How's that going for you?"

"I'll let you know when I'm done testing it. You looking at my new artwork?"

"Uhh...yeah. I really like it."

They both lock eyes for what seems like an eternity, or at least like a very long second that's been extended by rapid thought processes.

"Are you..." "Are you..."

"Huh."

They sorta just stand there for another stretch of time.

"We dated, and neither of us..."

The thought is interrupted by Gibbs asking for answers, but they do both share yet another look, one that's finally understanding.

* * *

Despite any fears Tim might've had, it's surprisingly freeing being comfortably out to anyone but his sister since college. Him and Abby had always been close, but now they go out together, mostly platonically but still with the comfortable lingering bond, to any cool community spaces Abby can find.

If he's being completely honest, this week has been pretty shit, case hitting a little close to home; a dead kid, with three hours of footage that's essentially torture posted by his classmates. He hasn't slept very well, to the point where Tony's stopped making jokes at his expense, good-natured or otherwise, and Ducky keeps attempting to waylay him. He's stood in front of his desk, trying to decide between staying and keeping busy with work and going home to potentially cry and probably avoid sleeping again when Abby starts dragging him toward the elevator.

"How long has it been since you last had a milkshake, Tim?"

Despite himself, he smiles.

The January air is crisp, and the writer inside him would say that it has a tinge of post-Christmas melancholy. Abby is tight to his arm, though, and she leads him through an alleyway and up a flight of stairs into a dimly lit milkshake...place? bar? he isn't really sure. The rainbow theme is subtle, and thankfully doesn't push against the persistent almost-headache he'd had these last few days. They sit down in a booth in the corner, next to group of three with a man who looks even more exhausted than he feels. Abby shrugs off her coat, a long black leather thing with a matrix vibe, and grabs a menu.

"This place is really cool, Abs."

"Of course it is Tim, I can't believe you doubted me."

There's a smile in her voice from behind the laminated sheet, and he punches her gently in the arm. She kicks him under the table, but with the least solid bit of her shoe.

"Do they have lime?"

"Lime what?"

"Lime milkshake?"

She drops the menu in mock horror.

"Lime milkshake?"

"...yes."

"You are a stone cold atrocity."

"My sister eats cheese-less pizza with pickles and peanut butter. We had a very dull childhood."

"Wow, blame it on the childhood emotional neglect, why don't you?"

"What else is that experience for? I certainly didn't get a t-shirt."

They both start giggling. He's never been one to actually deal with the repercussions of his upbringing, and it's quite funny if you don't think about it too hard.

"No, they don't do lime milkshakes. They do nutter butter ones though."

"Sounds good to me. I'll go order if I can find..."

He does a double take.

"What?"

"I think that's Palmer."

It really does look like Palmer, even down to the glasses he can see the arms of. Abby nods, but with less confusion than he feels.

"Yeah, that's probably him."

"You sound less surprised than I feel."

"...It's Palmer, McGee. Please tell me you'd put all of the context cues together before."

Realisation hits him like a reversing van; slowly, then quite solidly, then a minute of angry yelling.

"Fuck."

"Tim. He asked the man checking on my mass spec for his number very loudly, right in front of you."

"..."

"It was yesterday!"

"It's been one of those weeks, Abby."

She softens slightly.

"Oh yeah, I was gonna give you this."

She scoots around to give him a side hug. He tries not to sink into it too obviously. It sure has been a week.

"Come on, McGee, let's have some milkshakes."

"Okay."

"Wait, Palmer's there. Do we say hi? Will he want us to say hello?"

"I'm going to go order. If he recognises me, I'll say hi."

Palmer spins on his heel the moment Tim starts to order.

"Tim? I didn't see you come in! Not that I would have, given I had my back to the door and...what are you doing here?"

"Getting milkshakes with Abby. You?"

"I'm umm. Well," he checks his watch "Getting stood up on a date."

"The mass spec dude?"

"Yeah."

"Come sit with us."

"If it isn't too much trouble."

"Abby's over there. You already ordered?"

"Yeah. Thanks, McGee."

He winds his way toward Abby. Tim places their orders, with a woman who looks him a little too directly in the eye in a Gibbs kind of way.

"You new in town?"

Sort of.

"Something like that."

"How'd'you know Jimmy?"

"We work together."

"You look like a good kid. Keep an eye out for him, will you. He's a good kid too, but he's..."

"Jimmy. Don't worry, I will."

The woman places the two glasses down, with a slight twinkle in her eye.

"You'll tell your friend over there?"

He follows her gaze over to the table, where Jimmy and Abby are already laughing.

"Abby? She's got it."

* * *

"Hey idiot." is all the warning he gets before Sarah drops down on the bench next to him, two cups of coffee in hand.

"Sarah! What're you doing here?"

"Can't I just visit my big brother when I'm in town."

He levels his best _big-brother-calls-bullshit_ look at her.

"Ok, fine, but I brought coffee. Peace offering. Which...I now see you already have a cup of."

He drains his cup, and holds out his hand for the new one.

"Why do I need a peace offering? If you're a murder suspect again..."

"Tim!"

"Joking. Seriously, why are you here?"

"I need relationship advice."

He downs about half of the new coffee. Sarah looks at him with disapproval.

"Your caffeine intake is worrying."

"You should see Gibbs."

"I'm good thanks. I still need relationship advice."

"Why?"

"If I ask anyone who might be helpful, I have to come out to them, because all my gay friends are disasters. Well, except Ash. They're pretty chill."

"Is Ash doin' ok?"

"Oh yeah, they switched courses. They're doing art history now, thanks to your pep talk. They send their thanks."

He hadn't been that helpful. He'd just seen them crying in the bathroom at Sarah's last birthday party and tried to help. Apparently it turns out he's quite good at giving advice on disappointing your parents with career choices.

"Anyway, they're doing good, but relationship advice is going bad."

"And you came to me. Sarah, I'm a mess."

"You're a mess who understands some science jargon."

"How does that relate to you getting a date?"

"I met this girl."

"Yeah?"

"And we hit it off. Like, we go to that hipster coffee shop near campus, you know Satellites?"

"Sarah, that's a date."

"Wait, really?"

"Uh, yeah, that's what most people would call a date."

"Huh."

"Why do you need my help?"

"Ok, so last time we were there, she was really stressed about her paper, and I said I'd look it over because, you know, English major, but none of the words mean anything to me. You understand writing and science. Please help."

"Fine, but you're paying for lunch."

She smiles at him, face lighting up despite the fact she's a broke student. She knows he'll pick the cheapest food anyway, out of habit.

"Deal. Tiffany's diner work?"

"Uh huh."

She offers him a piece of gum from her pocket, bubblemint, just like old times.

"What's her name?"

"Her name is Kasie, and she's so cute, Tim, you have no idea."

* * *

Really, he shouldn't be surprised at the events leading up to the three of them sitting in this alley, not because he was expecting to be thrown into a wall off-duty, but because between Jimmy and Abby's combined chaotic energies and his own bad luck, getting in at least one bar brawl was something he had unwillingly anticipated.

It's mostly the various parts of his body that are gonna be beautifully bruised in the morning, and the blood he's trying to wipe off his forehead that he's struggling to wrap his head around. Metaphorically at least. He wrapped his head around the brick wall part about five minutes ago.

"Stop moving."

He resists the natural urge to turn his head to look at Jimmy.

"I'm trying. It's quite difficult when someone is sewing up your skull in a dark alley."

"Well Tim, stay still, because sewing up your skull isn't easy in this dark alley."

Abby shifts her phone slightly, moving the flashlight and getting a slight nudge from Jimmy.

"Should you not be going to hospital?"

"Saves on medical bills."

Tim has a point, he knows he does. Abby doesn't seem to think it's a very good point, because she very slightly rolls her eyes, and turns to Jimmy.

"Are you sure you should be doing this drunk?"

"You're the one who gave me the sewing kit, Abs. Besides, it's a concussion at most."

"Can you call your sister to pick us up?"

"She's in Rome for the week. Is Luca in town?"

"Nope, he's still in Nola. Jimmy, you got any family who can pick us up?"

"...No."

Well, if that realisation isn't depressing.

"...unless...we could call Tony?"

"He's out on a date tonight. He kept talking about it at work."

"I'm calling him."

Jimmy finishes the stitches, and turns to look at Abby as she holds the phone to her ear.

"Tony."

Muttering from the speaker that he can't catch.

"We..."

Abby tries to bounce as she usually does on the phone, without accounting for the fact she's crouched on the floor, and starts to overbalance. Luckily Jimmy grabs the phone and Abby before either of them fall, because his vision is swimming too badly for depth perception. He clicks it onto speaker, and sets it on the ground between them.

"Can you come pick us up?"

"Gremlin? What's going on?"

"Some guys came after us. We just need a lift."

"You ok?"

"We're...we're fine."

It's a miracle Palmer has made it this far, with that ability to lie. Then again, he's probably scared, and definitely drunk. Tony sighs, long suffering older brother who cares even though he pretends not to.

"Where am I going?"

Jimmy and Abby both look at him.

"Two alleys down from the all-night cafe on Winchester."

"Tim? What...is...never mind. I'll ask you in person."

The phone hangs up, and they collectively slump against the nearest surface, which happens to, for Jimmy and Abby, be him. He's quite grateful for the wall, even if it did hurt earlier.

"How're you doing Tim?"

"Don't feel any worse. Did you say concussion?"

"Yeah."

"Guys? How do we explain to Tony?"

Abby raises a good point, actually. He loves Tony (platonically of course, because it's Tony), but he's not sure the part of him that keeps his life locked away right until it blows up in his face is willing to let him in. He can tell Abby's having the same thoughts. Palmer, maybe a touch emboldened by adrenaline, answers.

"We can just tell him. He's Tony."

And...well. He's got a point.

"So we're cool with telling him?"

"Sounds good."

Tony shows up a little while later, probably fairly quickly. His head kinda hurts, so time isn't quite as easy to grasp at the moment.

"Oh, I have got to hear the story behind this."

"Bar fight."

"Let's get this straight," Palmer starts giggling. Again, how has this man survived? "You three started a bar fight."

"Well...we didn't start it..."

"How did you get in a bar fight?"

Abby and Jimmy both answer simultaneously, like twins out of a terrible hallmark film.

"Jimmy..."

"Abby..."

Tony looks so tired.

"Did what?"

Again, they answer simultaneously. It's almost creepy, or at the very least something him and Tony do, not them.

"Kissed someone and then these men started crowding us."

"The same someone?"

"No...what do you mean the same someone?"

"How...how did you kissing someone cause a bar fight?"

Tony, seemingly having given up on getting a straight answer from the others, turns to Tim, given he only has a head injury, and is probably right now Tony's best hope. Unfortunately, he's also at least a little drunk, so his best attempt is to just wave his hands over the three of them.

"Bi."

"Damn. I owe Ziva fifty bucks."

All three of them explode. Only a bit.

"Ziva thought we were all bi?"

"You knew?"

"You thought we were all straight?"

Tony yanks him upright, slinging his arm over his shoulder

"Just...get in the car."

Everyone does, maybe a touch wobbly. Tony slots them all into the backseats, for reasons that become rapidly apparent.

"Hey Ziva!"

"What happened?"

She's dressed up nicely, same as Tony. Tim decides that the less he thinks about that, the less rule twelve will come into play, and the better for literally everyone involved.

"Tony owes you fifty bucks!"

"Huh. All three of you, then?"

"Pretty much. We got in a bar fight."

Tony starts the car with probably too much force.

"You still didn't explain how it started."

"Abby and Jimmy both found hookups. Then we got surrounded, and here we are."

"Tim was awesome until he hit his head."

"On what?"

"One of the guys fists? And then the wall of the alley."

"They left us alone out there so we're all cool."

"You're very calm about this, Jimmy."

"Yeah, well, this is way better than the last time I was attacked."

Nobody quite stares at him blankly, but the car is filled with that kind of energy.

"When you rammed a guy with your car?"

"Oh, no, that time Cobb waterboarded me."

"Waterboarded?"

"And kidnapped, but that was objectively less traumatic."

Tony starts laughing.

"We are batshit crazy, you know that. Palmer just calmly discussed being waterboarded. You three got in a bar fight and had to call your coworker to pick you up."

"Friend."

Tony seems genuinely floored by that.

"He's like...our big brother, bailing us out of jail again."

"Tony's the only one who's been to jail."

Tony doesn't have a witty retort for that, given his mouth is still hanging open. Ziva turns and looks at her, and Abby quickly amends her statement.

"And Ziva, of course."

Tim slides his hand up, and in the events that follow, Tony may have to pull his car over so they don't crash. They may also all laugh so hard that Abby and Palmer sleep the whole rest of the way home, leaning mostly onto him.

"You really see me as a big brother?" Whispers Tony from the driver's seat.

This family, this batshit family he's a part of. He loves them so much.

"Of course."

* * *

"Hey, Dorneget's back in town!"

"Awesome!"

"And he'll be in town when Tim gets back!"

Ziva is staring at them somewhat blankly.

"It's our STEM-major gays catch-up."

She still looks blank.

"Gay nerds go meet up."

"At least one of us tends to be busy, so we don't get to go often."

"I'll call Tim, double check he's free."

"Free for what?"

"Ned's in town. You're back early."

"You forget that Gibbs is as hazardous a driver as Ziva."

Ziva flips him off from her perch on the evidence table. Tim flips her off without missing a beat.

"I don't have any plans."

"I'll text him. Moonlight's tonight?"

"Abs, we just got thrown out of there."

"Oh yeah, forgot about that. Whoops."

"Sarah says Satellites is good, near her uni. That's pretty near where Dorney usually stays.

"Coffee shop?"

"Bit of both. I can't drink, I'm working tomorrow."

"Sounds good."

"I'm in."

"You're free to join us, Ziva."

She waves them off with two more knives than were previously in her hands. How many knives were previously in her hands? It's hard to keep track.

"I don't know how much of your conversation I would understand. Besides, I have a date."

She leaves, and Tim mentally suppresses that tidbit of information in the vain hope that maybe rule twelve will fade out of existence with it.

"How's best for getting there?"

"Get the metro, probably."

"Cool. Work clothes should be good, right."

"I'm not wearing a suit."

They get a few stares on the train. They're probably mostly aimed at Abby, given she's dressed in full regalia, but some of them may be because of Jimmy's surprisingly patch-covered denim jacket, or because Tim himself has only managed to scrounge up a pair of jeans and a leather jacket, so he's still in his shirt. Between the three of them, they probably look like college students, off to go get hammered. It's not that far from the truth.

Dorneget is already there when they arrive, computer on the table, faded hawaiian shirt tucked into jeans like the true gay mess he is. Jimmy drops down into the seat next to him.

"Jimmy!"

"Hey Ned."

"Been a while, huh?"

"Too long. Hey you guys."

Him and Abby slide into the seats opposite.

"Hey. Whatcha got cooking on that laptop there?"

"Working on a new program for analysing websites used before people join shadier areas of the internet."

"Nice. Linked to a case, or..."

"For fun, sorta. Might be useful in cases once I'm done, though."

He spins his laptop around to show him and Abby. Jimmy looks interested, but he probably won't pretend to understand if the conversation gets too technical. It's a really good idea, and Tim is kinda kicking himself for not thinking of it. He turns to see if Abby is feeling the same, but she's not even looking.

"They sell so many flavours of iced coffee here."

"And a cafpow slushy."

"They sell what now?"

Ned points to the specials board, where, true to his word, cafpow and non-cafpow are written in aesthetic chalk.

"This is my new favourite place."

Ned looks...well, he looks genuinely happy. Better than that, he looks comfortable in his own skin.

"So, how's Cyber Ops treating you?"

"Pretty good, thanks. The boss is a lot less outright terrifying."

"Be difficult not to be."

"Yeah, and...well, I met someone."

Jimmy punches his arm in excitement. Ned doesn't seem to mind, which isn't all that surprising given Jimmy does it all the time and has the upper body strength you'd expect from him.

"Awesome!"

"His name's David, and he's doing his doctorate in linguistics."

"You found yourself a dark academia language student boy! It's like a fan fiction!"

"Pretty much. You guys should meet him sometime."

"After I've tried a caf-pow slushy."

He can see everyone else grinning, can feel a matching one on his own face. He feels...genuinely happy here, with these people.

"After the cafpow slushy."

* * *

There are rules between them all that Gibbs didn't make. It'd be stupid to think he doesn't know about them, but they aren't his, so he never mentions it. Rule three states that telling Gibbs personal things should be done in the elevator or his basement. Anecdotes are fine in the office, revelations are fine between themselves, but full blown secrets should be told in the basement or the elevator. Not to be confused with rule three point five; Abby can have post it notes or a fifth Cafpow, a rule that has helped more often than you'd expect.

Rule three is the reason he's here tonight, though, with a six-pack of beers and a pair of jeans with worn notecards slotted into a pocket. He'd folded and unfolded them so many times on the bus here that he can see the fibres starting to show along the fold lines. His memory is pretty good, so he had them memorised before he got on the bus, but he needed the reassurance.

He's sat on the step, at the moment, watching the sun set into the mid autumn haze. It's only because he's watching that he sees Jimmy pacing slightly out of sight, mumbling to himself.

"Jimmy?"

"Tim?"

If he'd written this story, Tim would have been hesitant about the amount of silent pauses that have been included, because by this stage he's estimating the number to be far too high for the word count.

"What are you doing here?"

"Rule three. Are you..?"

"Yeah."

"We both decided to..."

"Is that Abby?"

"...yes."

Her very distinctive car pulls to a stop right outside the house.

"Hey guys."

"Hi."

"Hey Abby."

She blinks at them slightly. Tim's going to lose his mind if there's another silence.

"What're you two doing here."

"Rule three."

"Rule three."

"What do we do here?"

"Rock paper scissors?"

"I'm not doing rock paper scissors in this situation."

"I'm not doing rock paper scissors against Tim and his applied mathematics knowledge."

"Are you three yahoos ok out there?"

All three of them freeze like they're doing something wrong at Gibbs's call, then simultaneously realise they actually aren't for once.

Gibbs takes a long look at them, and sighs.

"Come in."

Somehow, the three of them shuffle through the door and onto the sofa. Technically, they're now breaking a rule, but at least they're close enough to not be in open defiance of it.

"What did you all want to say?"

What happens right about then is a three people saying a lot of words all over the top of each other. Tim isn't even sure what he's saying.

"One at a time?"

Both him and Jimmy look at Abby. She shoots both of them a side glare, and straightens up.

"Ok, so I've known you, like, a long time, right. And you've known me a long time too, actually the same amount of time, cause it'd be quite difficult to know each other a different amount of time, unless..."

"You're bi."

Abby falls silent like someone hit a switch

"How did you..."

"I looked up what the cafpow's on the ceiling meant. I'm not a complete dinosaur, Abs. What did you two want to say?"

"The same thing."

"Yeah, exactly the same."

That does appear to throw Gibbs a bit.

"Huh."

"Yeah."

Another silence, that Tim doesn't even have the spare headspace to be annoyed about. This is kinda stressful. Abby is essentially Gibbs's daughter, so it was a guarantee he'd be cool with her, but...

"I was gonna order pizza. You three wanna stay for a bit?"

They do, in the end. Nobody brings it up again, and they eat pizza in Gibbs's kitchen.

Nobody brings it up until Abby is asleep on the sofa, at least.

"You know we're good, right?"

Tim can't help this silence.

"I saw you two, when I was talking to Abby. You were worried I would be fine with her, and not with you."

"Forgot you were telepathic, boss."

"You're...god, you're all insistent on making me do emotional talks in my house."

"It's ru...it's a thing."

"You're my kids, all of you. You don't turn your back on family, especially not if it's something you agree with."

He stands up.

"Although. Tim. Your taste in beer sucks."

Jimmy practically jumps from his seat.

"I told you!"

* * *

Catching Bishop up is significantly easier than telling Gibbs, because she's a lot more approachable. Also, she's very obviously neurodivergent, which means she's on par with at least two of their three ~~maybe all of them; nobody knows what the fuck is going on up in Tim's head, least of all Tim~~ , and even if it doesn't automatically mean they'll get on, they've all been on similar wavelengths so far.

The four of them are scattered around the lab, an inordinate amount of programs running, one hell of a lot of evidence, and all the caffeine and detritus you'd expect from an all-nighter following a five am callout. And by one hell of a lot of evidence, he means one metric fuckton, from three bodies in a lab running a joint biomedical and computer science experiment., disconcerting and most definitely their shared area of expertise. The autopsies finished a while back, Palmer staying to sift through medical jargon while Ducky goes home to sleep, Bishop called down as the only person who can help any part of this without destroying the lab. At the moment, she's dangling upside-down off a table in the way Tim got told off for as a kid, staring up at the ceiling. The three cafpow cups on the ceiling.

"Hey Abs, what do those mean?"

"I'm bi."

"Oh, that's cool."

"Me two."

"Me three."

"Huh. That's pretty rare."

She rotates, still upside-down, on the table to look at Tim.

"You should get a flag, for your pencil-holder."

By the next morning, one's in his desk drawer, and he has a choice to make.

Is he ready for this? The others are family, but the world is harsh, and hiding is safe. He's ignoring everything that's kept him safe all these years, just by sticking a flag in a pencil holder.

Then he remembers Tony and Ziva, coming to bail them out, Gibbs ordering pizza, how much more he’s been laughing since he started telling people. This is a good thing. This is the _best_ thing.

He slots it in amongst the pencils, and it feels good.

**Author's Note:**

> this is quite literally the longest thing I’ve ever written, I believe. it was meant to be about 500 words.
> 
> you know that one bit of Extreme Prejudice where Gibbs is watching Palmer and McGee and Abby all walk off with each other? yeah anyways I needed to write something about their friendship, and after my friend came out as bi, I figured I may as well actually write a fic about my headcanon
> 
> this is written as a bi author who has little interest in timelines please don’t come for me
> 
> title is from Sweater Weather by the Neighbourhood, because it’s just a bi joke at this point
> 
> hmu on tumblr @existential-flu if you wanna talk about bi characters


End file.
